Splinter
by Dr Spleenmeister
Summary: Staple PF fic that every smut writer must have. Spock hits Pon Farr with a vengeance and it's down to Nyota to take care of him. W.A. challenge response. S/U


ETA: New content to tighten up the flow.

**AN: **You can blame **ejectingthecore** and **TalesFromTheSpockSide** (and by default **Kalanel** and **outtabreath**) for this. They made me do it!

The plan was to write a Spock smut piece based on the Heroes promo image that many of you will have seen, of the delectable Zachary Quinto in a straight jacket. How could an FF writer get Spock into the same situation? What happens once he's strapped in? This is the result.

Enjoy!

* * *

**Splinter**

Spock's eyebrow had hoisted itself high onto his forehead and refused, point blank, to be coaxed back down. He eyed the complicated looking, fabric and metal device being held in front of him, then looked over the contraption to meet the gaze of the man holding it.

"Doctor, I fail to see how this will help."

McCoy grimaced, as he usually did when faced with his favourite hobgoblin's obtuseness. "It's simple, Spock. You wear it until we can get you to safety. It'll stop you from... ah... compromising yourself."

Spock was not convinced. "Perhaps a personal restraining field would be better?"

McCoy shook his head. "Too big a drain on the ship's power reserves. You will recall that the last battering we took from our friendly neighborhood K'tarans blew out the aft cargo bay. We left a lot of energy crystals drifting in our wake and we can't refill until we get to Starbase Eleven. Until we can get some more we're forcefield-less except for the emergency fields."

Spock ground his teeth together in an effort to control his frustration; he was well aware of the particulars of that battle. The K'taran Stinger that they had fought with had indeed left them several tonnes of hull lighter. The operations teams were still running around like headless chickens getting repair equipment from one end of the ship to the other without the use of turbolifts because the K'tarans had managed to somehow disable those as well.

McCoy waved the archaic device - a 'straight jacket' - towards him again, "I'm sorry Spock, but under the circumstances this is the best way. Needs must and all that."

Spock attempted one final, last ditch effort. "Perhaps mittens of some sort-"

McCoy lost any pretense of patience and cut him off. "No, Spock. Now sit still while I put this on you." McCoy pounced on the taller man where he sat perched on the edge of a biobed and man-handled him into the highly undignified garment.

Once he was bound, trussed and buckled in, Spock flexed his arms experimentally against the fabric bonds - expecting them to be inferior for the task - and was intrigued by the fact that he was indeed, held tight by them.

"Short of being unbuckled, there is only one way out of this thing. I don't recommend trying to find out what it is because it will hurt, and I refuse to repair the damage you would inflict upon yourself if you did."

Spock wordlessly nodded his obedience and rose to leave the sickbay. McCoy sprinted around the bed to block his exit. "Whoa there, where do you think _you're_ going?"

Spock cocked his head and frowned at the doctor as if he should be the one in the straight jacket. "To my quarters, Doctor. You told me I must remain there until we arrive at New Vulcan."

"Not on your own you're not. You need to be attended; you know damn well what will happen to you later and you'll need help. Let me get one of the nurses to give you a hand."

For a split second, instinctive fear overrode ingrained logic and Spock almost panicked, it was bad enough that he was having to bear the ridiculousness of wearing a restraint, it would be positively horrifying if some loose-lipped nurse blabbed his personal business about the ship. It would be far better if one proven in their discretion were to be the one to care for him. "Thank you Doctor, but I would request that you contact Lieutenant Uhura to assist me. She is well accustomed to my idiosyncrasies, and given the circumstances I believe I would be more comfortable being attended by someone I am closely acquainted with."

For once, McCoy was in agreement - despite a curiously raised eyebrow of his own at Spock's professed 'closeness' with the communications officer; when exactly had _that_ happened, and what precisely did he mean by 'closely acquainted'? - and contacted Nyota in her quarters. Spock resumed his perch on the bed to wait for her, while the doctor exited the private officers' room and returned to the main sickbay in order to attend to an ensign's thankfully minor, K'taran-inflicted injuries.

Five minutes later and half way through sealing a bleeding gash in the ensign's arm, McCoy glanced up as the door to sickbay swished open and Uhura arrived looking mildly confused.

She waited patiently for him to hand over to Nurse Chapel and approach her before she asked him in a low voice, "Leonard? What's going on?"

"It's Spock." Ignoring her puzzled expression, he took her elbow and guided her to the private officers' room.

As soon as they stepped into the room, Uhura froze in her tracks, her eyes widening in surprise at the sight of the tightly trussed Vulcan seated patiently on the edge of the bed. McCoy had to stifle a smile as Spock noted her arrival, drew himself up straight and attempted to retain his dignity.

"Mister Spock? What?" She whirled on McCoy, a displeased frown creasing her brow. "What is this? Some kind of joke?"

McCoy shook his head and became serious once again. "I'm afraid not. Commander Spock has developed an unusual... ah... _condition_; it isn't life threatening, not yet, but he needs to be closely monitored until we can get him to New Vulcan where he can be treated."

Shoving down her inner lurch at McCoy's _'not yet'_, Uhura did her best to keep her face politely concerned. Her eyes flicked from side to side as she ran some quick mental arithmetic. She met McCoy's gaze again with a frown. "New Vulcan is three days away even at maximum warp."

McCoy nodded. "That's right. Commander Spock has requested that you be the one to keep an eye on him until we get there."

She looked startled and rightly so, she and Spock had maintained a completely professional relationship after the events concerning the Romulan Nero. "Me? Why me?"

The smile was back again and threatened to emerge as a shit eating grin, But he resisted, his lips twitching with the effort as he replied, "Because you're familiar with his anatomy."

Spock, who had remained silent thus far, cleared his throat uncomfortably as a muscle in Uhura's eye twitched.

"Doctor, that is not what I said."

McCoy apologised unapologetically, "Sorry. My mistake." He couldn't resist a smirk as Spock and Uhura exchanged a quick, uncertain glance.

Uhura sighed heavily. "Alright. What do I need to do?"

McCoy turned to a drawer behind him, pulled out a handful of items and turned back to Uhura, holding them out for her to take. "You use these and stand well back."

Uhura frowned down at the tangle of woven straps in her hand in confusion, then looked at Spock's current mode of restraint. Her eyes shot open wide as realisation dawned and she whirled on McCoy to hiss, "You're _kidding! _I'm not tying him up!"

McCoy sobered. "You have to. Otherwise he'll rip your head off."

She blinked.

"Spock requested your help because he wants to retain his privacy, which I can understand; he's lucid enough now to comply with what needs to be done and will remain so for the next half hour or so. After that time he will become... different."

"Different?"

He nodded and lowered his voice, wary of Spock's fear of being exposed as some sort of animal. "The Vulcan people have worked extremely hard to suppress their inherently passionate nature, and they have been largely successful. However, all that enforced emotional control comes at a price; this condition is one of them." He glanced at Spock who was sitting with unnatural rigidity - even for him - on the bed, as his dirty secrets were on the verge of being laid bare before his one-time star pupil. McCoy deliberated for a second on whether to tell Nyota everything, that Spock would become delirious and violent, but decided that discretion was the better part of valour. "Suffice it to say that you may not recognise him when the fever sets in. You will need to use these to keep him from hurting you."

As Spock had feared she would, Uhura turned her gaze on him as if he were something dangerous, alien, _different. _She looked him over slowly from head to foot and he had to fight not to squirm uncomfortably, as the sensation of being a curiosity under a microscope asserted itself.

Satisfied that her former mentor was still himself for the time being, she returned her gaze to McCoy and asked, "If he will become dangerous enough to warrant the use of these," she waved the straps for emphasis, "then why isn't someone from Security taking care of him?"

"Nyota." Spock forced himself to remain stoic and calm as, for the first time since he had met her, she flinched at his utterance of her name. His voice was soft as he entreated her to understand, "This is an intensely private matter and I do not wish for my personal issues to become the topic of the ship's grapevine. Only three people know that I am ill, Doctor McCoy, the captain and you." He swallowed and licked his lips, the first outward sign he had shown of his discomfort since he had realised it was upon him. "Please, Nyota. I need your help."

She looked at him for a second, then put down the straps and moved so she was facing him square on. Her thighs almost touched his knees as she gazed long and hard at him again, this time not as an intriguing specimen of alien physiology, but as her friend. She spent a long moment trying to discern a change from the achingly gentle man she had known for four years into the deadly stranger McCoy had described. There was nothing, except for a slight dilation of his soft brown eyes, that indicated he was any different from before.

She nodded slowly, "All right," and flinched as McCoy pressed the restraining straps back into her hand, uncomfortable with the uncertainty of the situation but unable to turn her back on him when he was in need.

"Even though on paper it's an unnecessary drain on the ship's power, I'm authorising a site to site transport for you both. I'm sure you won't want to walk the corridors to the habitation deck like this." He waved at the jacket.

Spock nodded his thanks to the Doctor; for all his acerbic bluster McCoy was thankfully discrete when called upon to be so. He slid from the edge of the bed to land on his feet beside Uhura, who looked up at him curiously, still searching for the difference she had been warned about. The transporter tingled around them and they dissolved, only to reassemble in Spock's quarters an instant later.

Upon arrival in the living area of his rooms, Spock indicated a nearby armchair with his head. "I believe this item of furniture will serve our purposes, Lieutenant."

She moved towards the seat, separating the straps out as she went, and began attaching them ready to receive him as he stood silently behind her. Stepping back once she was happy that they were as securely attached at they could be, she averted her gaze as Spock moved past her to take his position. She strapped him in without meeting his eyes, extremely uncomfortable with the situation and desperately fighting back the long-dormant fantasies that had plagued her daydreams and feverish nights at the academy.

Spock watched her nimble fingers as she worked at the straps binding his thighs; her head was bowed and her breathing shallow. Her discomfort was understandable and he did not envy her position, but as the backs of her fingers grazed the white cotton trousers that Doctor McCoy had suggested he wear, he sucked in a long, slow breath. An excited tingle asserted itself in his belly and he hoped he had not erred in his choice of her as his attendant.

Despite Doctor McCoy's assumption, Spock and Nyota had not been involved on any level deeper than the quick comfort she had offered him on the day of his homeworld's destruction. At the academy they had been teacher and student, occasionally colleagues, definitely friends, but certainly not lovers. The thought had crossed his mind, as it had hers, but neither had vocalised the impulse and neither had acted upon it. To do so would have been illogical and dangerous, they could have been drummed out of the fleet for even thinking such slacious thoughts about one another, so to act upon them was out of the question.

But they were no longer at the academy.

Without moving his head, Spock watched her as she rose to her feet and moved behind him to restrain his upper body. Her hands draped the straps across his chest before following to smooth them into position. The inadvertent caress that the motion brought forced Spock to close his eyes in concentration; the fever was beginning to make itself known and he didn't know for definite how much longer he would remain lucid.

As Nyota worked, she became aware of a strange sound. Low and rumbling, it sounded a little like a cat's purr and as she placed the next strap into position across Spock's chest, she felt him vibrating and realised it was coming from him.

"Spock, are you... _purring?_"

The sound immediately stopped and the Vulcan stiffened in the chair. "No..."

Despite the seriousness of the situation, Nyota couldn't help but smile as she finished off the restraints. Coming around the chair to face him and admire her handiwork, the smile fell from her face as she saw his expression. He was staring at her, a faint flush staining his cheekbones as he blinked slowly. It appeared the changes McCoy had warned her about were about to set in.

"Spock?"

"Nyota..." The voice that responded was not in his usual even tone, it was slow, drawling, sensual, lingering on the 'o' and drawing out the 'a' in her name. His arms shifted in the straight jacket and he whined at her, "Unti-ie me..."

She shook her head and took a step backwards. "No, Spock, we agreed, remember? You're to stay there until we can get you home."

His eyes suddenly clouded and he thrashed violently against his bonds. "_LET ME GO!_" he bellowed and Nyota flinched from the volume as she took another step away from him. As her retreat took her to exactly one point five meters out of his personal radius, his countenance suddenly stilled. He blinked for a second, clearly himself again, and looked at her with a strange blend of relief and urgency in his eyes.

"Nyota, I may only have a moment so I must explain what is happening to me while I am still able." He took a slow breath and stilled the tremble that threatened in his limbs. "I am entering my season, the peak of my seven year cycle, during which time I will become exponentially more expressive." He shook his head slightly with a rue twist of his lips and averted his gaze from hers. "'Expressive' does not begin to describe how much I will change, how much of a stranger I will become to you. I will become angry, violent and-" he blushed fiercely, unable to stop himself from locking her gaze again, "-amorous." He watched her for a reaction and was grateful that she managed to remain relatively neutral - at least in her face; her eyes had definitely flashed for an instant. He pressed on, feeling the warning tickle in his mind that he was about to lose himself again. "However, there has been a complication." He swallowed hard, he had wanted for a long time to tell her of his regard for her, it was most unfortunate that the confession had to come at such a time as this. "I am deeply attracted to you, Nyota, I have been for several years and that unrequited affection has caused an issue."

Her voice was small and unsettled as she replied, "What kind of issue?"

"My body is clamouring for the consummation of a telepathic bond with you that my mind has dwelled on but not actually formed; it has been fooled into thinking that I am in fact bonded to you."

She blinked.

"The Pon Farr drives bonded Vulcans together every seven years f-for an... um..." he stammered uncharacteristically, horrified by his verbal diahorrea but unable to stop it, "-an extended bout of sexual intercourse. As Doctor McCoy said, it is nature's way of balancing the methods we use to control our emotions and instinctive impulses." He tried to look away from her in embarrassment but found that he was unable to. "The trick that my mind is playing on my body cannot be undone by medicine, and the longer it remains, the more likely it is that my ego will fracture into disparate personalities. By the time we reach New Vulcan I imagine that I will be mostly unrecognisable to you."

Nyota couldn't believe what she was hearing. The fact that Spock had just practically admitted to mooning over her was enough to floor her, but something in particular that he had said urged her to respond, grasping at a chance to save him any embarrassment. "You said that your unrequited affection was causing a problem?" He nodded and she steeled herself. "What if I told you it was not as unrequited as you thought?"

Spock's eyes widened.

Nyota had never in her wildest dreams envisioned them having this conversation like this, with the object of her affections strapped into a chair and about to go out of his mind. Even _Gaila's_ fantasies never got this weird.

Spock drew in a steadying breath as his heart decided to try and clamour its way out of his body. He had to be certain. "Nyota, are you saying that you are attracted to me also?"

She made the mistake of stepping towards him to whisper, "Yes." What happened next was inevitable given the discussion they had just had, but it still shocked her.

Spock threw his head back against the chair, squeezed his eyes shut and pulled his lips back to bare his teeth in a savage snarl as his hips jerked a sudden ridge of arousal into the air. He managed to hiss out a warning from between clenched teeth, "Nyota, get back... get BACK!" He jerked against the bonds, the buckles of the jacket clinking behind him as his body fought instinctively to free itself and claim what it thought was its mate.

Nyota all but ran backwards in her haste to get out of his sphere of influence. When he stopped convulsing she gulped as his eyes opened to lock onto hers. They were wide and feral and completely black; it looked as though the instinctive part of Spock's psyche was coming out to play. "_Mine_..." it hissed and she shuddered, her fear squashed by a sudden blast of arousal at the simple, possessive word. His thighs thrashed against the thick fabric straps around his legs and she heard a stitch pop.

"Spock," she had to try to calm him, otherwise he'd be out of those restraints and pinning her to the nearest wall before she even had chance to say 'slow down cowboy'. "Spock, tell me about the academy, tell me about our time there." Maybe getting him to remember a calmer time, before the world went crazy, would help to cool him off.

He grinned darkly. "I wanted to fuck you."

Okay, maybe not.

His eyes blazed and he tilted his chin to scent the air. With a jolt she realised he was smelling _her, _or more accurately her arousal. The heated, filthy confession from his usually tightly controlled, cultured mouth had sent a bolt of heat through her and with a squirm she realised just how affected she had been; it was no wonder he could smell her.

As if understanding what had caused her to produce the delicious waft of pheromones, he spoke again in a deep, dark, dangerous purr. "Whoever designed those cadet uniforms was either a pervert or a genius, every time you bent over a console or a desk I got an erection. I wanted to push that silly little skirt all the way up, rip off your underwear - which I could also see by the way - and take you." He licked his lips and groaned happily. "You were the sexiest woman I'd ever seen. I dreamt about you all the time, constantly waking up hard; my left arm sure got a good workout the last year we were there."

Nyota gaped at him, convinced that she was in some sort of crazy dream. He hadn't given away anything that even hinted that he thought that way about her while they were at the academy. They had shared the occasional glance, they had even touched fingers accidentally once or twice - although looking back with this new perspective maybe it hadn't been accidental at all - but nothing else had indicated this lust.

He must have one hell of a poker face.

He squirmed in his restraints, the bulge in his trousers still present. "I have an itch. Can you help me scratch it?" His thighs flexed sensually within the straps holding them and she moved forwards, turned on by his words, hypnotised by his huge, brown eyes and instinctively drawn to the scent of his arousal hanging thick and delicious in the air.

Mistake.

He surged again, his arms straining and his head bowing as his shoulders twisted back and forth inside the jacket. Snapping out of her daze, Nyota beat a hasty retreat and waited with baited breath to see what side of Spock would emerge this time.

His head came up to lock a glare on her. _"What have you done to me, you witch?!" _This Spock was clearly full Vulcan, the High Vulcan issuing from his lips in clipped tones said as much. _"Release me this instant." _A _haughty_ High Vulcan; this should be interesting.

_"I am ensuring your safety. the bonds are there to protect you." _she replied in a flawless replica of his tongue.

He stilled and examined her coolly. _"You are human."_ He glanced down at the bulge in his lap. _"How are you affecting me in this way? _**Are**_ you a witch?"_

Nyota grimaced as he clutched again at the witch concept, only the most sheltered people still believed in witchcraft. Maybe this was not a High Vulcan, maybe it was a primitive Vulcan instead. Her innards lurched with adrenaline; primitive, pre-Surak Vulcans were at the complete mercy of their emotions. This persona would be more impulsive than the one it had replaced. Erring on the side of caution she opted not to respond and sealed her lips tightly shut.

He cocked his head. _"Witch or no, you are uncommonly attractive. Do you have a mate?"_

She was starting to see a pattern here that made what Spock had explained in his lucidity clear. She was seeing different elements of his psyche, exactly as he had said she would, and each one had sex on the brain, a result of the tangled Pon Farr. Answering his question non verbally she shook her head in the negative.

His eyes lit up. _"Good, because I want to mate with you. Come here and untie me so we can begin."_

_Oh Gods yes. _She swallowed hard on the impulse to voice her assent and turned her back on him instead. Moving to his sofa she sat down and watched him mutter to himself, still in High Vulcan. It was late, she wanted to sleep but she wasn't sure if it was safe to leave him alone. Stretching out on the sofa and ignoring the way he stopped muttering and watched her become horizontal with flaming eyes, she lay down to watch him. It wasn't long until she fell asleep; thankfully she didn't dream of him.

*

"Nyota."

She stirred, the smooth, deep tone drawing her irresistably from a deep slumber.

"Nyota, please wake up."

Nyota blinked awake and slowly sat up, rubbing at her eyes as she turned to look at Spock across the room. "Spock?"

"Nyota, I have re-established control for the time being. I require your assistance." His voice was tight and he was squirming ardently in the chair.

Rolling to her feet, she approached him slowly and came to a halt just outside of what she had calculated as the safe zone - a one point five meter radius from the chair. "Spock? Is it you this time?"

He nodded, his gaze dragging lustily and compulsively over her form. "Nyota, I need relief; please..." he glanced down at his crotch then back up at her, "please help me. I fear I may lose my mind completely if I do not have some form of release soon." His eyes slipped closed and he whimpered in helpless arousal as his hips writhed uncontrollably. In lucidity the lust was even harder for him to handle than when on of the other personalities took over. When they - the id - surged forth he found he could step back and merely observe, his body was no longer driving him insane in this state. It was tempting, so tempting, to remain there, untouched by the fever, but he knew that if he did his ego would fracture permanently and He would be lost. So he fought back to the forefront of his own mind, battering the Others back and reasserting Himself.

It was the Spock that Nyota knew who sat there now, thirsting uncontrollably for her and at the complete mercy of his overheated, pheromone drenched, sexually starved body.

"Is... is it safe to come closer?" She didn't want to contend with another crazy splinter of his psyche until she'd had at least another four hours sleep.

His eyes shot open and he nodded eagerly, "Yes... yes, please... please come closer." She moved cautiously to within three inches of the chair and he locked wide, pleading eyes on her, knowing what he wanted but retaining too many of his inherent manners to be able to ask for it.

Nyota knelt before him as if he were some sort of alter to be worshiped at. Parting his knees as far as they would go within the confines of the chair, she reached for the fastening of his trousers.

"Yessss...." His head fell back as he was exposed to the cool air and his breath shallowed to short, hot pants. "Please, please, _pleasepleaseplease_..." Cool fingers touched his burning, throbbing flesh and he cried out, his voice cracking as blistering electricity scorched through his every synapse and nerve ending.

This wouldn't take long.

Veins stood out on Spock's neck and his arms strained at the fabric of the jacket almost hard enough to tear. His legs trembled within the tight straps as his blood turned to superheated steam and seared him from the inside out. His body locked and with a deafening roar of primal instinct he climaxed. Hard.

Slumping into the chair, lungs heaving, arms aching, vocal chords close to snapping and his eyelids too heavy to hold open, he rasped, "Thank you, Nyota," then promptly fell asleep.

*

By the time Nyota awoke at a more reasonable hour, Spock was hot, hard and ready to go again. His eyes followed her hungrily as she moved around his rooms, preparing a hearty breakfast for herself and a small bowl of fruit for him. He fervently hoped that she would feed him with her hand, having her fingers in his mouth would be almost as satisfying as laying her out and taking her body with his.

"How are you feeling?"

He had thought that he desired her yesterday. This morning's reaction to the sound of her voice made yesterday's urges pale in comparison. "Hot." He croaked, hoping she'd take the hint; maybe removing his trousers, maybe removing everything, maybe joining him in nudity. He swelled even more within his clothes; this was going to be a difficult day.

"Did last night help any?"

He wanted to say yes, but he would be lying; now he had a sample of what they could do together he was _desperate_ for more. Fortunately, the release she had given him seemed to have sent the schizophrenic side effects of the confused bond into remission. He hoped they remained there, HE wanted to be the one who received her attentions, not one of his alter-egos. "No." It seemed he would be reduced to monosyllabic answers this morning.

She stopped puttering around the room and looked at him seriously. "What _would _help?"

He looked her dead-on and responded honestly, "Sex."

Her voice was shrill as she chirped, "How about some breakfast?" _Change the subject, Nyota, change the subject..._

"You will have to feed me." He wriggled his arms in the jacket to accent his point.

"Okay." She picked up the bowl of fruit and a fork.

"No-" He swallowed thickly and licked his lips in anticipation. "Please use your f-fingers." His own fingers flexed within the confines of the jacket, he wanted, no, _needed_ her long, elegant, skillfully dextrous fingers in his mouth. He had seen her work, she possessed an unnatural speed and fluidity in her lovely fingers, they spoke to what was left of his control. His own highly trained, very Vulcan hands were incredibly sensitive and they all but screamed to be free to touch her, to tangle with hers. As that was impossible, he would settle with living vicariously through her.

He was to be disappointed.

Nyota shook her head, bottling her response to his sensual request, and sat on full alert beside him - aware that she was operating within the danger zone. Keeping a firm grip on the fork, she speared a piece of star fruit and held it out to his lips. He tilted his chin up to snag the fruit from the utensil; his teeth glinted at they delicately took the food and his eyes were heavily dilated as they held hers. His adams apple bobbed as he swallowed and his tongue darted out to lick juice from his lips. He repeated this with every morsel of food.

Nyota gulped, she had never fed a man like this before, it was unexpectedly sexy even with the fork and with every swipe of his tongue across his lips she felt her own temperature increase. Spock was still emitting a dangerous amount of pheromones and as she got down to the last piece of fruit in the bowl, the heady scent of him intoxicated her to the point of doing as he asked. Putting down the fork and bowl, she picked up the remaining chunk of melon and touched it to his moist lips.

Spock almost mewled with pleasure as he parted his lips and took not only the piece of fruit, but the tips of the fingers that held it into his mouth as well. The fingers slowly withdrew, the index lingering on his bottom lip as he held her gaze fast with his own. The fingers left him completely and he chewed the fruit rapidly, swallowing it down and husking urgently, "You still have juice on your fingers."

In a daze, Nyota lifted her hand and slipped her index and middle fingers between the lips that parted again to welcome them. This time Spock did moan and his eyes rolled back under fluttering eyelids as his tongue lazily mapped every length and crease of the fingers he had fantasised about since waking up three hours before her this morning. Nyota glanced down and noticed that he had swelled again, the lull of breakfast having done nothing to quell his need.

She gulped again, their little confessional the previous night had opened up the possibility for more than a professional association for them. But he was ill, delirious and acting out of character, it would be a bad idea indeed for her to take advantage of his loosened inhibitions and obvious desire for her. But as she watched his face smooth from the tension that had contorted it, the pleasure seeming to reduce his discomfort, she was finding it increasingly difficult to resist.

Her fingers slipped from his lips and he closed his eyes to groan, "Nyota, I need you... _Please_..." His arms strained at the restraints as the sudden urge to embrace her close and bury himself forever inside her gripped him. "Untie me, let me have you, let me bond with you, let me claim you as mine-" he thrashed violently and yelled, "_LET ME SINK MY TEETH IN!_" He sagged in the chair and began murmuring to himself under his breath, not noticing that Nyota had bolted away from him as soon as he had started struggling again.

The rest of the day saw Nyota doing her damnedest to ignore him as he continued to beg her to untie him so he could slake his thirst for her. She tried to read, but ended up reading the same paragraph over and over again as he murmured filthy suggestions to her from his prison. She tapped into the communications array and attempted to listen to the white noise of space for a while - it usually had a meditative effect on her - but he started keening and rubbing himself against his trousers as his ardor rose another notch. She thought about contacting Doctor McCoy, but Spock would no doubt be mortified once he sobered up if she did; there was no way McCoy would not be able to hear the ardent noises Spock was making, even if she took the communicator as far across the rooms as possible.

So she sat. Uncomfortable, aroused by the unnatural amount of male pheromone in the air and unable to escape. At one point she became so frustrated by his non-stop entreaties and attempts to get her closer, that she moved into another room in his quarters and began to touch herself. Spock - his senses heightened beyond anything she could have anticipated - had immediately stopped writhing in his seat and called out to her, "It would be so much better if you let me do that for you, Nyota." His voice was deep, seductive and almost sober.

She had almost caved.

At twenty three hundred hours she finally approached him and he suddenly fell silent, staring up at her with huge eyes as his breath shallowed. Perching on the stool that was still beside his chair from the morning, she slowly reached out and touched her index finger to the spot just below his chin that would allow her to tilt his face up towards hers. Gazing calmly into his eyes, she spoke softly, "I'm going to help you sleep like last night, okay?" He nodded eagerly and she ghosted a hand down his front to open the front of his trousers. But this time, instead of positioning herself on the floor and being clinical about the process, she gazed into his eyes, watching them flare as she touched him, unable to remain detached.

"Nyota..." His breathy caress of her name could have fooled her into believing that he was almost in control of himself and he cried out, his gaze still holding fast to hers. He began to grunt and shudder, his eyebrows trembled, sweat beaded on his forehead and still he held her gaze. When he climaxed this time it wasn't with a bellow, it wasn't even with a cry, it was with the soft sigh of her name.

As he slipped into exhausted slumber, Nyota was left alone with her thoughts.

She didn't get much sleep that night.

*

On the final morning of their imprisonment together, Nyota panicked.

Running to the nearest intercom she slapped it hard enough to bruise her hand, paging Doctor McCoy. He was halfway through grousing his usual ascerbic greeting when she cut him off.

"Leonard, he won't wake up."

McCoy severed the connection immediately, those five words waking him up faster than an intravenous drip loaded with black coffee and was at the door to Spock's quarters one minute and thirty seconds later. Overriding the privacy lock, he burst into the apartment - blocking out the heavy male scent that cloyed the air - and hustled to the chair where Spock was awkwardly slumped and Nyota hovered, bouncing anxiously on the balls of her feet.

"How long has he been like this?" He whipped out a tricorder and began scanning the unconscious Vulcan.

"I don't know. I woke up about ten minutes ago and when I went to wake him he wouldn't respond. Tears prickled her eyes and she choked, "Is he going to be alright?"

McCoy's eyes narrowed into slits as the tricorder beeped the undesirable results of the scan. "Not yet, but he will be; I need to get him to sickbay. He'll hate me when he wakes up, but he'll be alive."

"..._ Ny... o... ta_..."

The two humans jumped as the soft whisper issued from the slack lips of the half-dead Vulcan. Nyota, acting on instinct, reached down to touch his face; he stirred and weakly moved his cheek into her hand.

She swallowed, reviewing everything that had happened and the observations she had made over the last two days and met McCoy's incredulous gaze. "I know how to save him."

McCoy cocked an eyebrow and reached into his bag for a communicator so he could page sickbay. "And how are you going to do that, Doctor Uhura?" He flipped open the device and keyed in the emergency frequency.

She said slowly, "The Pon Farr..."

"Now wait just a minute!" His eyes shot wide open and his fingers froze in mid air. "You can't be suggesting what I think you're suggesting? He could kill you, or worse, bond with you!"

Nyota smiled mirthlessly at his poor attempt at a joke. "I'm willing to take that risk, Leonard. Besides, we'll be at New Vulcan in less than ten hours; if I can keep him alive until then the elders can un-bond us I'm sure."

"Nyota, honey," McCoy's voice was soft, touched by the lengths she was willing to go to save their senior officer, "I can keep him supported in sickbay until we arrive."

She tilted her head to indicate the steadily nuzzling Vulcan. "Look at him, Leonard, he's getting stronger just from touching me. Touching me - or rather me touching him - is what's taken the discomfort away for him while we've been here."

McCoy couldn't help but raise a suggestive eyebrow, "I'll bet."

She continued, determined that this was the best option. "If drugging him was an option you would have done it before now. Let me at least try."

He watched Spock for a long moment as he continued to press his face into Nyota's fingers. Opening his tricorder again, he scanned the semi-conscious Vulcan, sighed heavily, closed the tricorder and slipped it back into his kit. He never could say no to her, and she appeared to be correct in her assessment of the situation; Spock's vitals were rapidly improving, seemingly from the contact with her skin. Leonard McCoy might have been one of the finest physicians in the fleet, but he was also a firm believer in allowing the body to heal itself whenever possible. If there was a way to save Spock without having to slave him to science then he was willing to attempt it. "Alright. You have an hour; if I haven't heard from you by then I'll be back down here with a medical team and a security detail."

The door closed behind him and re-engaged the privacy lock. Nyota looked from the closed door to Spock. He was definitely getting stronger, this must be something to do with the whole touch-telepathy thing Vulcans had going on. Knowing now what she had to do, she went to work releasing the straps that held him immobile in the chair, then removed the jacket from his sweaty body.

Kneeling in front of him, she took his face in both of her hands and whispered, "Spock, I've untied you, I'm going to help you. Do you think you can stand?" He slowly grunted an assent, his eyes heavily lidded, and she rose to help him to his feet. Once he was upright he swayed dangerously, so she propped her shoulder under his to steady him. "We're going to clean you up, alright? You've been sitting in that same position for two days." He had been sweating heavily during the throes of his fever and Nyota knew that although he may not care right now, once he sobered up he would not appreciate it if he had stunk when they finally lay together if there was an option not to. He was calm at the moment so now was the best time to get him to do the mundane things like sanitise before the mindless lust took over again and robbed him of all but one of his faculties.

Between the two of them they managed to strip him and get him into the shower. He leaned heavily against the cubicle wall for the first minute or two and when he finally managed to muster the strength to reach for the soap he dropped it, his arms drained of all their considerable strength. "I-I cannot..." His head bowed in humiliation until small, feminine hands touched his wet skin. He raised his head to discover that she had joined him, uniform and all, to help him clean. If he had more strength he would have laughed. As it was, he relaxed and soaked up all the energy he could from her while she stroked hands, slippery with soap, over his burning skin.

He moaned softly; as his strength was returning, the fever was slowly reasserting itself and driving as much blood as it could down to between his legs. Her hands skimmed down in that direction and he gasped, biting his lip as she skirted around him and instead massaged soap into the dark curls at the base. He breathed out, "You're teasing me," unconcerned with sloppy speech patterns under the circumstances.

She wasn't teasing. She was terrified.

She knew precious little about Vulcan mating rituals, _no-one_ knew anything about them outside of New Vulcan. She wanted to help Spock, she owed it to him; after all if he hadn't changed her assignment from the Faragut to the Enterprise in the first place she'd be dead, but she had no idea what she was letting herself in for. She had already seen how strong he was, and she'd seen the fear in Leonard's eyes when she had told him that she intended to give Spock what he needed. How did she know that he wouldn't seriously injure her in the heat of his passion?

His voice was soft and reassuring, "I won't hurt you..." and as his fingers closed gently over hers she realised that she had inadvertently transmitted her fear to him through the touch of her hands on his body.

He turned to face her and cradled her face in his hands to kiss her tenderly.

Intended to be a soft, reassuring kiss, it quickly deepened as Spock fell prey to his own body again. Staggering from the shower, Nyota's lips still held firmly against his own, Spock stripped her soaking wet uniform from her and wrapped his arms around her tiny frame, pulling her up off her feet and hard against him. She squeaked against him in surprise and he pulled back to pant into her mouth, "I am losing control, Nyota, I will try not to hurt you but- _ahh!_" She had shifted, her hip brushing his arousal and suddenly he was driving her backwards, pressing her against the nearest wall and growling as he possessed her lips again, his tongue driving deep into her mouth and swallowing her surprised cry.

Nyota's head was spinning, the fever had fully gripped him again and it was somehow trickling into her until she was clawing at him, her neatly manicured nails drawing blood as they gouged the skin of his shoulders. He pulled her off the wall and carried her to the bed, falling backwards onto it and positioning her over him. He released her lips to snarl, "Ride me," then buried his face in her neck as she did as commanded. No preparation was necessary, she had been aroused constantly for the last two days, plus the overflow of his fever into her had made her body ignite with a need that was as alien as it was intoxicating. She slid down onto him, drawing in a slow, deep breath as he filled her, the sweet stretch of muscle around him making her heart trip and her instincts ignite.

Spock was lost. The fever in his body was searing him from the inside out, the fever in his mind had yet to be sated and the two combined threatened to drive him insane. Nyota _his_ _mate _filled his senses, her skin hot against his, her scent dizzying in his head and her heat around him bringing an intimacy he had only dreamed of. She started to move and he cried out, his blood boiling, his fingers tightening into her hips, urging, pleading, begging, demanding she move faster, harder, deeper, he cried out again and grazed his teeth against her neck, fighting against the instinct to bite down and mark her. His body snapped and he came hard enough to blur his own vision, screaming himself hoarse as he did so, but his mind continued to swell, to throb until it felt like his brain would explode. He erupted into her again with a cry, his body shuddering with it's second climax as she yelled out her own completion. He was still hard, his body still yearned, his mind still strained, he climaxed again, his empty sacs trembling with the effort to expel something.

Nyota juddered with aftershocks as Spock continued to writhe and pump below her. He seemed to be struggling to stop, his still-hard penis twitched inside her again and he cried out in pain as his body tried to drain what was already empty.

"Spock?"

"Ny-Nyota... H-Help..." His hands came up from her hips to take hold of her wrists, they shook as he guided her fingers to his temples. Before she could complete the movement and make contact, his body convulsed hard enough to lift his upper half off the bed and his face contorted into a silent scream of agony as another dry orgasm tore through him. He fell back to the bed, panting weakly and releasing her hands as all the strength bled out of his arms. She felt wetness and glancing down she saw green fluid trickling out of her and onto him. With a lurch she realised that in the absence of semen, his body had taken to releasing blood instead. Something had gone horribly wrong. He shuddered hard, close to losing consciousness and still his body strove for more.

Holding back another zenith, Spock forced his eyes open and reached hands that trembled towards her face. "N...Nyota... I have to-" he squeezed his eyes shut and bared his teeth as another pulse of agonising heat threatened to kill him. He looked at her again, trembling with the effort of holding back. "I have to bond with you. Now."

She didn't hesitate. "Do it." Later she might regret it, but this was now and he was dying. If she didn't give him what he needed he _would_ die.

She leaned down to make it easier for him to touch her. His fingers immediately splayed over her face and he groaned, his eyes rolling back as a permanent channel opened between them, her life energy flowing into him, swirling quickly through his mind, bringing warmth, benevolence and the sound of delighted laughter, tenderly healing the wounds it found before returning to her.

Her eyes had closed the instant he opened the link, but now they opened to find him gazing up at her with so much gratitude that his eyes had filled and tears trickled pale, wet tracks over his temples and into his mussed hair. She blinked, she could hear him in her head, feel him in her core and he was still hard inside her. The frantic urgency of coupling in order to keep him alive had abruptly ceased, leaving them quietly regarding one another as his mind finished healing.

She smiled and felt his mind smile with her. "Hello, Spock."

His voice was soft and reverent as he replied, "Hello, Nyota."

She kissed him with a feather light touch, smiling against his lips as he tentatively returned the gesture - he was still shy even after what they had just done. She rose gingerly, letting his tortured flesh slip gently from her to it could soften and rest. He moaned softly, his eyes closing again, the pain that had wracked him shifting to delicate tendrils of pleasure as he left her body. He felt himself slipping steadily into unconsciousness as his mind finally settled and his body relaxed, having gotten what it wanted. He felt more than heard her move around the room, opening his closet to find some clothes seeing as hers were ruined. She communicated briefly with Doctor McCoy, not realising yet that she was transmitting everything she was feeling to Spock, therefore unaware that he was basking in her rapidly blossoming affection as he fell into the welcome abyss of sleep.

* * *

**AN: **Many people have asked if I will be continuing this, the answer is yes but not on this posting. 'Splinter' will remain a standalone scene ('cause it's smokin' and I like to treat my readers to some senseless smut from time to time ^_^), but it will also be used as a chapter in my upcoming story Another Path, which will be posted when I have the full structure tied down.


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